When All Other Lights Go Out
by brit-lit
Summary: Scenes from OoP, HBP, and DH. AU for characters living/dead. Minerva/Kingsley, Remus/Sirius, Ron/Tonks, eventual Hermione/Severus.
1. Chapter 1: Number Twelve Grimmauld Place

The sun had nearly set when Minerva McGonagall appeared in a swirl of tartan in the shadowed street of Grimmauld Square. Her sharp eyes darted from the lit windows of Number Eleven to the bins of rotting rubbish outside of Number Thirteen. She crossed the street to where Number Twelve ought to have been and thought, The headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix may be found at Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, London.

Immediately, Number Twelve appeared, pushing between Numbers Eleven and Thirteen as though it were being inflated. The moment the townhouse had solidified, Minerva hurried up the front step and tapped the door to unlock it. The elaborate magical locks whirred and clicked on the other side, and she heard the rattle of the door chain as she slipped inside.

The hall seemed even darker than usual in the half light. The heads of the house elves mounted on wall plaques cast eerie shadows along the floor and the baseboards. With a small pop she transformed into a tabby cat with spectacle markings around its eyes and gave a wide berth to an umbrella stand that looked like a severed troll's leg. She curled into its shadow, however, when she heard voices on the stairs.

"Sirius, no."

A fist thumped into the wall.

"Sirius. Sirius!" Footfalls, then sounds of a struggle on the landing.

"If you think I'm just going to sit here, think again Remus—"

"Remember what—"

"I don't care what Dumbledore said!"

"Sirius, please," he whispered, and there was a desperation in his voice that caught Minerva off guard. Remus was pleading, begging him, as she had never heard him speak before. The silence in the stairwell was almost palpable, tense with the struggle between the two men. She held her breath, curling deeper into the shadow of the umbrella stand, then slowly looked around the corner.

Sirius sat on the top step; Remus sat beside him and leaned against the bannister. He looked as worried as she had ever seen him, but it wasn't the same hunted look that came with the approach of the full moon. They were gripping each others' hands, Sirius's left in Remus's right, and she could see their knuckles whitening from where she stood.

"I hate being trapped here," she heard Sirius admit, as he tried to conceal the crack in his voice.

Remus reached his arms around the other man's shoulders, burying his forehead into the hollow of his neck. "I know, dear heart. I know you do."

"And when I think of Harry stuck in that muggle house every summer for the last fourteen years . . . it's not supposed to be like this, Remus. He's supposed to be free. No likes being locked up like that, and after what he's gone through already, after last Spring—"

Remus nodded into his neck. "He's already done more than most of us, more than he ever should have had to, at fifteen."

Sirius reached up, running his thumb along the soft grey sleeve of Remus's soft, worn cardigan, then turned his head to look up into the other man's eyes. He sighed. "Please be careful."

The werewolf smiled, and kissed his lover briefly. "I promise."

Neither of them noticed the tabby cat dart from the shadows toward the kitchen.

Kingsley Shacklebolt sat alone by the kitchen fire of Number Twelve, counting the minutes until the Advance Guard was due to leave for Surrey to retrieve Harry Potter. As soon as Alastor arrived . . . He shifted his legs, already stiff from waiting, and rose to pace in front of the fire.

The kitchen door creaked open slowly, and he turned abruptly to face the entrant, but to his surprise he saw only a tabby cat with spectacle markings around its eyes.

"Hullo Min," he said in his deep soothing voice. "I was wondering if you'd turn up."

He sat down again. She responded by sauntering over to him, stretching her front legs and flexing her claws, then sprang lightly onto his knee and surveyed him with her keen eyes.

"And affectionate, too," he said with a low laugh that was almost a purr, reaching up to stroke her behind the ears. She closed her eyes lazily, and rubbed up against his chest. "Oh Minnie," he breathed as he stroked her, holding her close, "you don't know how I have missed you."

She paused, surveying him with a glance that he knew in her human form would be a mix of appraisal and calculation.

"Then again," he continued as he resumed his ministrations, "I suppose you do."

She settled into his lap, purring contentedly. He stroked the arch of her spine thoughtfully, then, "Min?"

She looked up.

"Come home with me after? After the meeting, I mean?"

She stared at him a moment and then resumed her curled position on his lap, her tail twitching back and forth.

"That'll be yes, then," he chuckled.

She turned to the gang of wizards behind him and whispered urgently, "He's just arrived, the meeting's started . . .

The wizards behind Harry all made noises of interest and excitement and began filing past Harry toward the door through which Mrs. Weasley had just come . . . (OoP 61)

The kitchen was packed to the gills with people and conjured chairs, and there was a great shifting and scraping as those present moved to make room for the newcomers. Hestia and Emmeline squeezed onto the long bench next to Poppy Pomfrey, Elphias sidled along the wall to take the seat at Dumbledore's left with his back to the fire, and Dedalus Diggle shook hands with Filius Flitwick as he passed to take the extra seat next to Bill Weasley. Sturgis Podmore passed Minerva McGonagall to take the chair recently vacated by Mundungus Fletcher, who had moved into the corner next to Sirius to make room for Tonks on Mad-Eye Moody's right. Evidently its proximity to Moody's magical eye made him uneasy, though Tonks seemed unperturbed as she folded herself into the cushioned seat. Remus sank into the chair that Sirius proffered to him, and Kingsley brought up the rear, taking the seat closest to Minerva on Dumbledore's right. Dumbledore raised his hand for quiet, and the greetings subsided, then he turned to the only member of the group who had remained standing.

The man was dressed in heavy black robes and a traveling cloak. His jaw-length hair hung in greasy strings around the sallow skin of his face. His hand rested on the mantlepiece, as though it were both supporting him and preventing him from sweeping out the door. He met the eyes behind the half-moon spectacles.

"Severus, if you please."

Severus Snape turned to face the room.

Sirius trudged up the stairs, passing the rooms where Harry, the four youngest Weasleys, and Hermione had all turned in for the night. The stair creaked, and he heard two faint cracks from inside Ron and Harry's bedroom. He smiled wryly to himself. Molly might have an iron grip on the information that her children got outright while at headquarters, but she couldn't expect them not to talk about it. Or put the pieces together for themselves . . . He continued up the stairs, passed the girls' room, and thrust open the door to his own bedroom.

He knew it intimately, even in the dark, and he pulled on dark blue silk pants and thrust his arms into pyjama sleeves almost without thinking. The inky fabric slid against his skin, smooth and cool as water, and for a moment he gave all of his senses over to the sensation, imagined that it was Remus sliding the silks over him, pulling them off to leave him naked in the starlight. He felt himself stiffen. It was too much to hope that he would stay tonight, but Sirius reached his thoughts downstairs to the kitchen where Remus and Arthur had been sitting when he had gone up to bed. Not that we have anything to hide, he thought, but I'd just as soon keep it private. It's not how I'd choose for Harry to find out, overhearing us in the dead of night. He lay down and folded himself into the soft, squashy covers, willing himself to sleep. It would be so much easier to wake up suddenly in the morning than to wait for hours with every nerve jangling—

The stair creaked outside, and Sirius sat bolt upright, his body tense in anticipation. It was too heavy to be Kreacher—he had locked the door against him, in any case—and he hardly dared to hope that it would be Remus coming upstairs to steal a kiss and a few private moments before he left. . . if he left . . .

The door opened silently, allowing the dim light of the hallway into the room, then closed quickly again. Sirius lay down and breathed a long sigh as he heard Remus making his small noises as he got ready for bed: stripping off the soft cardigan, collared shirt, and worn trousers; opening the drawer of the bedside cabinet and removing his own burgundy silk pyjamas; a soft groan as he sat on the edge of the bed to remove his socks; the rustle of the sheets and the comforter as he rolled over to spoon his lover, nuzzling his nose into his neck.

"I was afraid you weren't coming."

He felt Remus's smile. "I told Arthur the truth, that we were being discreet because it's not how we'd choose for Harry, or any of the kids, to find out. He quite agreed, but pointed out that there's a good two floors between us and that no one should suspect much if you can keep the shouting to a minimum. Or if you remember to cast Muffliato," he added.

Sirius punched him playfully in the shoulder, and Remus responded by wrapping his arms more tightly around him and whispering in his ear, "I don't think I need to tell you dear that I intend to make keeping quiet extremely difficult for you. If you aren't careful," he whispered, and his voice became a possessive growl as he crept his fingers under his lover's shirt to press his palm against his bare chest, "even that won't drown you out completely."


	2. Chapter 2

They appeared with two successive pops at the entrance to Kingsley's house in Bloomsbury. Back-to-back, they surveyed the well-lit square, then went swiftly up the front steps into the hall. They were admitted by a very dignified-looking house-elf, who opened the door as they approached and bowed.

"Master Kingsley, where would you like tea served this evening?"

Kingsley doffed the pillbox hat he wore, and handed it to the elf. "In the library, thank you Ferguson. It's quite late, and you and Violet have both waited up."

"We have, Master. We would not be easy in our beds, sir, if we slept while you were still out."

"You are both very good. I am grateful."

The elf bowed deeply, and departed.

"A bit more complex than a security question," Kingsley said in answer to Minerva's quizzical expression. "My response is always the same. If ever I answer differently they will know that it isn't me, but it should protect them from anyone who might impersonate me thinking that they know too much. They just look like servants following their master's hours." He closed the doors, then extended his hand to her, and she allowed him to remove her tartan cloak and hang it in the hall closet. He removed his own outer robe, then turned to her and whispered, "What do you say to tea and a fire in the library?"

She smiled. "I say, 'Lead on.'"

He offered her his arm, then lead her through the corridors into the library. Her shoes clicked against the wooden floorboards, and she saw the expansive white marble hearth and mantle of the fireplace. Another house-elf was cheerfully laying the fire. She rose and curtsied as they entered.

"Good evening Violet.

"Good evening, Master Kingsley." She curtsied to Minerva. "And to you, miss." She resumed laying the fire, and lit it just as Ferguson entered with the tea tray.

"Tea, as requested Master. I took the liberty of including the strawberries to which I know my master is so partial."

"Thank you, Ferguson. This will do beautifully." The elf bowed, setting the tray on the low coffee table near the cushioned sofa. "You and Violet are both dismissed for the evening. Have a pleasant night."

"Good night, Master Kingsley," the elf bowed. " And to you, miss." Without another word, he Disapparated. When she was satisfied that the fire would burn for several hours, and that the wood rick was well-stocked with logs, Violet turned down the gas lamps and followed.


End file.
